


Fenders Christmas

by Dragon_Shaman



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders is pretty and he knows it, Christmas Drabbles, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, Sexual Content, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, and he is not afriad to use that to his advantage, but there are still elves and magic and stuff, christmas shenanigans, even Pounce isn't safe, minor hurt/comfort, silliness, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 23:08:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11278674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Shaman/pseuds/Dragon_Shaman
Summary: (Yes I am aware it's not even close to Christmas XD)It's Christmas in the fenders household and Anders is determined to get Fenris into the Christmas spirit--despite the fact that it is actually only one week before Thanksgiving.Hilarity ensues.





	1. The Hat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TearsOfWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TearsOfWinter/gifts).



> This the first of two drabbles I posted on tumblr last Christmas and kept forgetting to post here. 
> 
> This one was written for Tearsofwinter who wanted some Fenders fluff! 
> 
> Comments and Kudos are welcome!
> 
> Enjoy!! ^^

“…Mage, what is that?”

“What it what?”

“That–on your head.”

Anders looked confused as he went to the mirror to see what Fenris was talking about. “OH! You meant these!” he said as he touched the fake antlers decorating his head and turned back around. “They’re antlers! I found then on sale at the supermarket this morning.” He smiled proudly, the cloth antlers wiggling slightly with his movements.

“I am aware they are antlers, mage,” Fenris said, still staring. “I am simply wondering why you are wearing them.”

“Cause it’s the holiday season!”

“You DO realize it is not even Thanksgiving yet?”

“And your point is?” Anders asked, wearing his ugliest Christmas sweater and standing in a room of which every inch was covered in Christmas decor, complete with a huge fake tree with the lights turned on in the corner and a yule log burning in the fireplace.

Fenris simply shook his head. He eyed the antlers again. The sweater was expected as Anders had made it a tradition of his to buy a new one each year, each more ugly than the last and wear it at home every day during the holiday season until Christmas was over. He should, therefore, not be so shocked to see him wearing antlers. At least, he wouldn’t have been if…”And they are silver and covered in glitter because…?”

“Cause those were the only ones left that fit me.” Anders replied, looking a little sheepish. “Though there were some normal ones in Pounce’s size!”

Just then, the cat in question trotted into the room, little bell jingling, small cat-sized antlers wobbling on his head.

“That poor animal.” Fenris mumbled as Pounce jumped onto the couch and stared at him with large, disc-shaped eyes. A small smile flitted across Fenris’ lips at Anders’ offended scoff.

“Pounce likes wearing antlers on his head thank you very much!” he retorted as he scooped the cat up and started cooing at him about his “cutie little cat antlers”.

Fenris huffed. “I am sure, “he said, expression bland.

“OH! That reminds me!” Anders set Pounce back down on the couch where the cat began to clean itself and darted into the bedroom. Fenris had a sudden feeling of forbidding. He was just considering escaping when Anders returned, hands behind his back, a large smile on his face.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands!”

Fenris crossed his arms, expression wary.

“Pleeeease?” Anders said, pulling his best “puppy eyes” look. He even tilted his head so his golden hair fell across his large, amber eyes.

Again, Fenris considered escaping–-but if there was one thing he could not do, it was tell Anders no when the man looked at him like that. With a sigh of defeat, he closed his eyes and held out his hands. Instead of having something put in his hands, however, something warm and fuzzy was tugged quickly onto his head.

“Perfect fit!” Anders cheered.

Still feeling that sense of forbidding, Fenris opened his eyes only to come face-to-face with his reflection in the hand-held mirror Anders was holding in front of him. Fenris frowned. Anders had managed to find a sparkling white Santa hat complete with glittery silver trim and puffball for him to wear.

“Mage,” he said, firmly. “I am NOT wearing this.”

Anders pouted. “Just until Christmas is over, “he pleaded. “It looks really good on you!”

“Anders,” Fenris warned, trying to convey how serious he was by using the mage’s name. Because if he didn’t hold his ground on this, he knew for a fact that Anders would wear his antlers every day, wherever he went–and that Fenris would get roped into doing the same thing with his hat. Every. Damn. Day. EVERYWHERE. Until Christmas was over. He could already hear Hawke and Isabela laughing their heads off at Fenris at work.

He had already suffered that way through the entire month of October when Anders convinced him to wear a pair of dog ears for Halloween.

“But–”

“NO, Anders!”

"Pleeeeease?” Ander begged again with another “puppy eyes” look. He even stuck out his lower lip just a little.

Fenris groaned, ears lowering as he heard Anders make a delighted noise, knowing full well he had won. “Kaffas–FINE!” Fenris said. “But!” he stated, pointing a finger in Anders’ face. “I will NOT wear it outside the house!”

“House only–-got it!” Anders agreed, grinning like the cat who got the canary.

He then gave Fenris a quick peck on the lips with a “Thank you, Love” and practically skipped into the kitchen.

Fenris sighed, a reluctant smile spreading across his face as the sounds of Anders singing Christmas carols and searching in the cupboard–likely looking for the cookie pan–drifted out of the kitchen. He really needed to learn how to say no to his mage. It was hard, though. Not only could Anders “out-puppy” Fenris (as Hawke called it), but the man had not had the chance to celebrate the holidays–-any holiday–-with someone he cared for since Karl had died years before. Fenris–-having never had the chance to even consider celebrating the holidays in such a way until he fled Tevinter and somehow got adopted into Hawke’s group–-knew all too well what it was like to suddenly have the opportunity to experience something new and good, and to want to experience it to the fullest. If Anders’ idea of doing so meant wearing horrific hats and sweaters and decorating the house until it looked like a cheesy Christmas card inside and out–-then so be it. At least the mage was happy.

That’s all that really mattered to Fenris in the end.

He noticed the cat had gone back to staring him with large, saucer-eyes.

“What?”

The cat just continued to stare. Fenris rolled his eyes and turned then caught his reflection in the larger mirror on the wall. He sighed again. Maker the hat was HORRIBLE.

The singing in the kitchen grew louder as the mixer was turned on and the air filled with sent of gingerbread. He could do this, he thought. He could wear this ugly hat. For Anders.

Even if it was for over a month…

At least he didn’t have to wear it outside of the house this time.


	2. The Sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This year Anders has two gifts for Fenris, both intended to get him into the Holiday spirit--and both much worse than the white and silver Santa hat. 
> 
> At least, that how Fenris feels. Honestly where does the mage FIND this stuff?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second of the two silly, old drabbles. This one was inspired by a funny Christmas Fanart of Fenris on tumblr. 
> 
> It can be found here: https://trash-town-champion.tumblr.com/post/153920152828/its-december-1st-save-him 
> 
> Please look at it, it is hilarious! XD
> 
> Enjoy!! ^^

Fenris should have seen it coming.

The year after Anders convinced him to wear the Santa hat, he came home the day after Thanksgiving with a headband decorated with a tree and two stars on small, spiraled springs. Fenris almost choked when the mage said he had gotten the ugly thing for HIM to wear–-but like with the hat, Anders convinced him to wear it until Christmas was over.

While wearing the hat no less!

Fenris tried to refuse, but was powerless in the face of Anders’ pleading expression.

Those big, amber eyes and that pout of his were a MENACE!

At least, like with the hat they had agreed he would not have to wear it outside the house. (And, though Fenris would never admit it, the joy in Anders’ eyes as he smiled and gave Fenris a kiss when he agreed made it worth it).

He wasn’t the only one suffering, however–-Pounce’s normal bell had been replaced with a large, gold jingle-bell as well as a tiny pine-tree complete with snow that dangled and tinkled as he trotted through the house.

In truth, though, it wasn’t all that bad. Yes, he now had to wear two ugly things atop his head at home every day from Thanksgiving to Christmas, but after two Christmases he got used to it.

Then Anders came home with the sweater.

Fenris had been completely blind sighted. Anders now had a collection of over thirty ugly Christmas sweaters, several of which had a Santa on them. So when he came home with yet another one–-this time a ghastly red-and-green-striped thing with plastic ornaments, Christmas lights and a truly UGLY cartoon-Santa pasted on it–-Fenris had simply grimaced then gone back to reading his book, trying once again to wrap his head around how Anders could not only bring himself to spend money on such rubbish, but WEAR it.

He was understandably confused when Anders, instead of going into the bedroom to change, stopped in front of him and held the sweater out, a large, excited grin on his face.

It only took Fenris a moment to realize what Anders intended.

He jumped off the couch with a ‘NO, mage–-I REFUSE!”, tossing the book to the side and striding to the bedroom. Anders followed. “PLEEEEEASE, Fen?” Anders begged, skipping straight to the full-on “puppy-eyes and pout”.

Maker, he was pulling out all the stops with this one.

Fenris could feel the scowl start slipping off his face and his shoulders start to slump in resignation–-but one glance back at that horrendous sweater and Fenris felt his expression harden and shoulders tense back up. There was no way in all of Thedas he was ever going to wear that, puppy eyes and pouty lips or not.

Fenris crossed his arms and, scowling said, “I said ‘No’, Anders. I will wear the hat and the headband, but I will not wear that ugly sweater!”

For a second Anders looked shocked–-it was, after all the first time his puppy-eyes-and-pout combo had failed to sway Fenris–-but then he seemed to switch gears. Eyes suddenly full of desire, a mischievous smile spreading across his face he dropped the sweater on the bed and slowly started walking toward Fenris.

Ears drawing close to his head, eyes narrowing, Fenris stayed still and stiff as Anders pressed against him. He knew what the mage was doing and he refused to budge on this. Slipping his hands under the back of Fenris’ shirt, carefully avoiding the Lyrium, Anders put his mouth right up to Fenris’ ear and, voice low and sultry, whispered, “Won’t you please wear it, Fenris? For me?” Sudden, wet warmth as Anders’ tongue darted out and licked the very tip of Fenris’ ear.

Fenris ground his teeth. “I said: No!” he said through clenched teeth. He would not give in. He would be strong!

Anders drew back just so Fenris could see his face then dipped his head slightly, looking up through his golden bangs. Instead of his eyes being large and pleading, this time they were liquid fire, smoldering, his long lashes casting dark shadows across his face. He wasn’t pouting–-instead he was sucking on his lower lip just a little, the small motion drawing Fenris’ eyes to his full mouth. He hadn’t put his hair up that day and so the long locks hung loose, falling gracefully across his shoulders and down his back; it seemed to gleam in the light that pooled in from the hallway.

Fenris sucked in a sharp breath. All thoughts of the sweater were suddenly gone as he looked at his mage–-his beautiful, golden-haired, amber-eyed mage. Maker, he wanted nothing more than to pull him close, kiss him until they were dizzy then strip him naked and fuck him on the mattress until they passed out. He could feel his eyes dilate at the thought.

Feeling heat pool in his stomach, Fenris uncrossed his arms so as to grasp Anders’ bi-ceps and pull him flush against him. The mage purred, running his hands across his back and arching into Fenris with a groan as the elf’s mouth latch onto his neck and started to gently suck and bite. Fenris groaned also. The mage smelled amazing. Like healing herbs and gingerbread from the cookies he seemed to be constantly baking during the holidays and a third scent that was simply and purely Anders.

“Please, Fenris,” Anders panted, groaning loudly as one of Fenris’ hands slowly started to make its way from his shoulder to the mage’s well-defined ass. “Please–-ah!”

“Please what, mage?” Fenris panted, his voice deep and thick with desire. He smiled when Anders groaned again. He knew the mage loved his voice when he was aroused; he loved it so much, in fact, that Fenris had managed to make him come just by talking to him once.

Remembering that night Fenris shuddered and growled deep in his throat, causing Anders to gasp. He nipped the other man’s ear then soothed the sting with a swipe of his tongue. “You can have whatever you want,” he whispered, smirking at the way Anders’ legs were shaking. “Just name it.”

Anders panted for a few moments, trying and failing twice to speak while Fenris continued to lavish his neck and ear with attention while at the same time gently kneaded his ass. Then he swallowed and gasped, “Please–-Fen–-please wear the sweater–-ah!”

Fenris was about to say yes, mind full with all the things he was going to do to his mage for the rest of the night–-then immediately went stock-still, his eyes flying open as Anders’ words registered.

_Kaffas!_

He pulled back roughly, yanking his hand out of Anders’ pants, and glared at the mage. Grasping his arms tightly, teeth clenched and lips pulled back practically in a snarl, Fenris leaned close and said, “For the last time, Mage: I. Will. Not. Wear. That. Sweater!”

Fenris expected Anders to smile cheekily and continue to try seducing him into it, and possibly even throw in a batch of freshly-baked apple tarts as he did the day he convinced Fenris to go with him to the cat show at the community center a year earlier.

But Anders did nothing of the sort. Instead, his face fell. Just fell, the desire and joy and mischievousness suddenly replaced with deep disappointment and…hurt?

Fenris’ expression became concerned. “Mage–-?”

“We used to wear them…every year around the holidays,” Anders whispered, staring at the floor.

“Who?”

“K…Karl…and I.”

Fenris’ stopped breathing. Anders so rarely spoke of Karl–-he knew only that he had been Anders first real love beyond numerous one-night-stands, and that they had gotten married one year after they had passed their Harrowings and were finally allowed to leave the Circle. He also knew that Karl had died just a few months before Anders and Fenris had met. Anders never said how, only that it had been very sudden.

Fenris hadn’t known that the sweaters had been a tradition they had started as a couple. To think that Anders had, after all these years, been holding on to that tradition–-that memory of Karl…his heart clenched.

“I know it’s…stupid,” Anders said, voice shaking as he blinked back tears. “But, I thought…we…” he took a deep, shuddering breath then turned away, wrapping his arms around himself. “Sorry,” he said, obviously holding back tears.

“Mage…”

“I’m sorry–-I know you hate stuff like that! I just thought–-” he turned back toward Fenris, eyes too-bright with unshed tears. “I wanted something like that–-with you! A stupid tradition we could do every year as a couple.” He swallowed. “I know it’s no fun for you, though.” His eyes dropped back to the floor. “I won’t ask you to wear it anymore. Or the…hat and headband…”

He picked up the sweater, intending to throw it away–-but was stopped by Fenris’ hand on his arm. He looked up at the elf, a questioning expression on his face. Fenris simply stared at him as though he was searching his face for something–-then shaking his head he gently drew the mage into his arms and held him tightly.

“Anders, “he said firmly, the use of his name making Anders go still. “You are utterly ridiculous.”

Before Anders could punch him for his seemingly insensitive remark, he said, “I’ll wear the sweater.”

Anders drew back so he could look him in the eyes. “But–-” he was stopped by Fenris putting a hand over his mouth. Fenris huffed. “Don’t get wrong, mage: I think the sweater is even uglier than the hat and the headband combined! However,” his voice softened, “I understand wanting something that belongs only to you and the one you love. Trust me.” He made an exasperated noise and shook his head. “Honestly, Mage! You didn’t have to trick and seduce me into to wearing all of this–-you could have just told me in the first place. I would have done it. Without question,” he added.

Ander’ eyes were wide. He had only ever heard Fenris’ voice sound so tender the night Anders had told him about Karl’s death. He had whispered sweet, loving words to him and held as he cried, mourning the loss of his first love. He then felt guilty for not trusting Fenris enough to just ask him a few years before about his tradition idea. Fenris was rough, and had a hard shell around his heart that had taken years for Anders to crack–but he was also kind and considerate and intelligent and above all: loving. And like Anders, for much of his life he had had little and lost much. Of course he would understand why Anders wanted this tradition with him. And yet, Anders was still so afraid…

Fenris pulled his hand away from his mouth so he could speak–-but Anders found he had nothing to say. 

“Cat got your tongue, Mage?” Fenris asked with a little smirk, eyes dancing.

“You’ll really wear it?” Anders asked, hating himself for having to ask, for needing to hear it.

Fenris rolled his eyes with a sigh, though he was still smiling. “Yes, I will. And the hat and the headband. Do you know why, Mage?”

“Because…” Anders’ stopped.

Fenris’ expression became indescribably tender. “Because I love you, Anders.”

Anders gasped then threw himself into Fenris’ arms and buried his head in his shoulder.

Even years and years later, Anders still had problems trusting. The fact that Fenris understood so completely was one of the reasons he had fallen so hard for him. They had been together for almost ten years, but had said “I love you” perhaps only three times, showing each other with actions instead of words. Something about saying the words out loud…Anders had lost his first real love to a violent hate-crime–-and before meeting Anders the only love Fenris had known was a tainted, twisted kind. And so, it was hard to speak the words, as doing so made the whole idea more…real…more tangible. And that meant it could be lost--could be taken away.

That was how Anders had felt just moments before–-and yet, a single, seemingly trivial gesture and three little words suddenly made Anders long for that tangibility, that realness to their relationship.

And so, heart fuller and more open than it had felt since Karl had died, he said, “I love you, too, Fenris.”

They made love after that–-sweet and slow, like it was the first time. Then they baked (yet MORE) gingerbread cookies before cuddling on the couch together and watching silly Christmas specials–-all while wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters and head decorations.

And later that night, as they fell asleep in each other’s’ arms, Anders thought to himself that he had never been so happy.


End file.
